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(152) next ››› Page 146Page 146Johnny's grey breeks

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145
Bat as for thee, thou false woman,
My sister and my fae ;
Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword
That thro' thy soul shall gae.
The weeping blood in woman's breast
Was never known to thee;
Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe,
Frae woman's pitying e'e.
My son ! my son ! may kinder stars
Upon thy fortune shine ;
And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
That ne'er wad blink on mine.
God keep thee frae thy mother's faes.
Or turn their hearts to thee ;
And where thou meet'st thy mother*s friend,
Remember him for me !
O soon to me may summer suns
Nae mair light up the morn !
Nae mair to me the autumn winds
Wave o'er the yellow corn I
And in the narrow house o' death
Let winter round me rave ;
And the next flow'rs that deck the springs,
Bloom on my peaceful grave !
M3

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